Nunna daul Isunyi (The Trail of Tears)

The Story

Uwoduhi looked ahead at the trail through the trees where sunlight glinted on the snow through dead boughs that twisted and bent.  She shivered and pulled her woven blanket closer to her while hopelessly trying  to ignore the melting drops of snow that pattered on her head.  Their rhythm reminded her of drumbeats, of the men chanting the words of ghost dances and ceremonies, and the warm, flickering fires that the villagers danced around.  She could smell the squirrel and venison, and she could taste the dog with bitter herbs. She imagined her home and the beautiful baskets and bowls that she had woven and shaped with the help of her grandmother.

            Her dream was broken by shouting.  She gave a fleeting glance toward the end of the procession, and she saw a young man, Tsuli, struggling with a soldier.  Saquu stopped to look; Uwoduhi swooped her up and continued to march, her heart beginning to ache.

            “Uwoduhi,” Saquu, or One that is Happy, looked with wide eyes up to Uwoduhi, “Why does Tsuli fight with the white men?  Is he going to be alright?  What if he dies like father? What if they just kill him with their guns?”  Her deep brown eyes widened and filled with tears. Uwoduhi looked back once more.

            “Saquu!  You must not think things like this!  You must be happy, for it is your name!  Father helped to name you, and when you were born, he saw that you were cheerful.  You must be cheerful; do not worry about Tsuli.”  Uwoduhi pulled Saquu’s blanket tight around her.  Saquu was already worried about death. Uwoduhi looked down and studied the trail hard so that her eyes would not blur with tears, but a single tear slipped down her russet cheek and fell into the snow, greeted by the cold and the thousands of other tear drops that had fallen before hers. 

            She heard a soldier yelling in English and Tsuli shouting in Cherokee. She resisted the urge to look back and shook her head in dismay. 

            Tsuli was much like their father.  He was tall, and very sturdy with exceptional flexibility and agility when it came to war or hunting.  His name, Tsulitsvyasdi Tawodi, meant Brave Hawk, for he was fearless - unafraid of the enemy, even the white men.  He was tall and attractive and witty and clever.  Many of the other clan girls often spoke of him, and they would come to the village of the Long Hair Clan to stare. Tsuli was fourteen winters, and soon he would be ready to marry.  If he lives long enough, thought Uwoduhi, as she heard more shouting.  Unlike Father, he was careless in his doings, and this was his trouble. 

            Several soldiers ran past her, kicking snow into her face.  She knew at once where they were headed.  A chilling scream pierced the air, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose.  It was Tsuli.

            She ran up the line to her cousin, Unalii, and thrust Saquu at her.  She sprinted past all the staring faces, past other soldiers who tried to stop her, but she shirked them and kept running, her footsteps muffled by the snow.  She saw soldiers huddling around Tsuli, and she muffled a cry.  She did not stop running until she came to the circle. 

            “Get back in line, Cherokee!” A soldier stood and swung his rifle at her stomach.  She fixed her gaze on the gun and headed towards Tsuli, watching the man the whole time.  The soldier yelled at her again, but then John, the Soldier-Who-Knew-Cherokee stood up from the circle.

            “What are you doing?”  He asked her in a soft voice.  His eyes were soft and blue like a pond.

            “That is my brother, Tsulitsvyasdi Tawodi,” she pointed at the form on the ground, “What happened to him? I heard him shouting, and then I heard a scream,” She advanced toward the wall of soldiers, and panicked as she saw crimson spots on the pure white snow. “John gently grabbed her arm and barred her from going any farther.